


The Worst Kind of Addiction

by AngeliaDark



Category: Hazbin Hotel (Web Series)
Genre: An honest shot at redemption, Angel Dust needs a dick, Angel gives as good as he gets tho, Broken Contracts, Hint of dubcon put the archive tag in to be safe, Lust Demon Problems™, M/M, Valentino is a dick, match made in hell
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-26
Updated: 2020-07-26
Packaged: 2021-03-06 00:47:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,159
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25534600
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AngeliaDark/pseuds/AngeliaDark
Summary: The demon formerly known as Angel Dust is making an honest attempt at the whole redemption and betterment thing.  He even had Charlie free his contract from Valentino to help things along.  But sinners are in Hell for a reason, and Angel's reason just won't let him off the hook.Drugs are the least of his worries when punishment comes to call.
Relationships: Angel Dust/Valentino (Hazbin Hotel), Charlie Magne/Vaggie
Comments: 16
Kudos: 174





	The Worst Kind of Addiction

If anyone had told him that abstaining from sex would be hitting him worse than breaking his addiction to PCP, he could have put a cigarette out in their eye and told them to get bent.

And yet here he was, smoking one of his daily allotted joints with a shaking hand, trying to ignore the dull ache of neglect in his loins that no amount of lube and his hand could fix.

 _‘The fuck did you expect, this is Hell,’_ he told himself bitterly, grinding his teeth as yet another twinge of _need_ rippled through his lower half. He growled, snuffing out the end of his joint and leaving it in the ashtray for later before throwing himself face-first onto his bed, holding his pillow tightly in his hands as he screamed into it just to vent some frustration out. The last thing he needed was to let it internalize again until it manifested into physically lashing out like it did last week. 

Twenty Good-Boy Points lost throwing a chair out the window. He’d honestly been aiming for Niffty, but damn that little lady was fast.

Angel turned onto his side, hugging the pillow to his body as he glared across the room to the mirrored vanity, catching a glimpse of himself. He resisted the urge to flip his reflection off, hating how ragged he looked, knowing he definitely hadn’t been looking his best for WEEKS now.

And here he thought that having a full and definite out from Valentino was a good thing.

He closed his eyes tightly, remembering the day about two months ago, when Charlie pulled every card and favor she had to march herself into the Porn Studio and demand Angel Dust’s contract from Valentino. 

Charlie was in all her Princess of Hell glory facing off against the moth and not backing down for anything as she threw a combination of money and threats his way until she had that precious binding contract in her hand.

So yay, Angel Dust was free.

Well, in some sense. 

For one, the name ‘Angel Dust’ was left behind entirely.

 _“That name belongs to me,”_ Valentino had said as though he was keeping the bathroom fixings while Charlie took the whole damn house. Fine and fair, but it made things awkward up to now.

Angel had been ‘Angel Dust’ for all of seventy-ish years, never going by anything else. And once his contract was taken out of the Porn Studio to be properly broken by Charlie later, he and everyone else found themselves unable to SAY that name, even if Angel still thought of himself by the name.

So now to the rest of the Hotel, he was either Anthony or Tony. So mundane, yet so nerve-wracking. He’d accepted his porn name wholeheartedly to get AWAY from Anthony, the name that was associated with being beaten and thrown into an asylum and lobotomized and cast out and whored up until he overdosed. Valentino might have been a total asshole in naming him after the drug that had ended his life, but it was still a name he had and clung to for decades.

He couldn’t bring himself to be Anthony or even Tony. And he supposed that only added fuel to the fire that was burning him alive.

He should have expected it, really fucking should have. Being contracted to Valentino had not only guaranteed protection come Extermination time, but it was also a leash on his own power and Hell’s effects on him. His lust was concentrated on performing for Valentino’s services, and now without that contract, without using his body for the sexual gratification of others…

GodDAMN, Hell sucked big time. 

But he supposed that was the POINT of Hell. No matter what he did or how he did it (let alone _who_ ), his punishment would still be there. Waiting. 

It was enough to give the idea of redemption some extra thought, if only to be rid of punishment, however hair-thin that chance of it ever happening was. If he had to be good as many years as he’d been bad, then this torture would only extend a long, long way. But he found himself setting up his own road blocks with drugs to numb the pain, if only for a short while, his one step forward being thrown back twenty yards.

Story of his life, wasn’t it? A little hit of this, a little suck of that, just for the gratification of forgetting his shitty lot in life for a couple hours, only to find himself hooked on pain medication and having to fuck or blow his way to cash for more.

The circle of life, and it screws us all.

Which brought him back to the here and now. He had his freedom from Valentino, at the cost of being in a hotel, practically shut in, with only one daily joint to smoke to keep a thin veneer of wax over that razer-sharp edge of dependency, owing fifty Good-Boy Points for every drink he wanted under an 8% alcohol content, and not a goddamn person here willing to help him with that constant burning _need_ for sex.

He had hoped that Charlie would at least understand a LITTLE. After all, she was half-succubus, right? He had to know what it was like. But with her other parent being fucking Lucifer Morningstar Magne himself, he had to have that little burden under control. Plus she had a girlfriend to clam-jam all she wanted which was unfair to the point of irony.

His vision blurred as tears came to all eight of his eyes. He wiped them away furiously, getting pissed all over again at the new pile of shit that was building up to replace the old pile. Different shit, same stink. 

He threw himself onto his back, covering his face with one set of hands, crossing his secondary over his abdomen and clenching his claws into his skin, and the third set slipping out to try to take at least SOME of the edge off, shoving his already-ruined panties down to furiously stroke and finger himself just to FEEL something.

 _‘C’mon c’mon please please just let me have one fucking DAY!’_ he screamed to his own body, biting his lip and making it bleed as he came with no wonderful buildup and very little payoff to speak of. “GodDAMN it!” he snapped, throwing his pillow across the room, resisting the overwhelming urge to just throw a bitch of a fit. Unsatisfied, panties ruined, messy hands, and he would literally punch God in the face for a fifth of vodka right now.

Who was he kidding, he’d BLOW God for a fifth of vodka right now.

Fuck, he hoped that blasphemous thought didn’t register on Charlie’s point chart.

He stalked to the bathroom to take a cold shower, just yet another unpleasant sensation to wrap up his cavalcade of bullshit, and prayed it was over for the day.

God fucking motherfucker sonofabitch DAMN it.

Angel threw slammed his bedroom door shut -no doubt putting his points in the negative, not that he gave a fuck- and threw himself into his bed for the second time today, screaming obscenities into his pillow directed primarily to Niffty and Charlie, the former for tattling on the latter concerning his nearly-empty bottle of lube and coming to the conclusion that he was having illicit activities in his room. Sprinkle in some shouting that started on his end, add a dash of Vaggie getting in on it, Alastor’s talk show two cents in commentary, and ending with a flourish of _“SHOW ME YOUR LOGBOOK OF EVERY TIME YOU TWO DYKES WENT CUNTBOXING THEN YOU HYPOCRITICAL BITCHES!”_

And now he lost ALL of his Points, was on zero-tolerance probation, and lost his marijuana privileges ON TOP OF no longer having any lube left. He would be having a room sweep and they’d probably take what few toys he had left too.

If there was ANY solace to this ordeal, it was the magnificent shrieking feedback noise Alastor made before the stupid deer went quiet after Angel’s outburst. 

It wasn’t enough to shine any significant light on this bullshit of an evening though, and it just left him feeling more wound up and hollow and on FIRE than before, only now he didn’t have even that small amount of help lube would have to help with.

This was absolute bullshit. He was a grownass man dead for seventy-three years, there was no reason for him to be treated like a child, especially when ‘Mom’ and ‘Bitchier Mom’ had no idea the physical hell he was going through. He just knew if he brought it up, they’d probably resort to a chastity belt or something instead of just giving him his lube back or allowing him on an actual date where sex was on the table. 

He also didn’t bring it up because Charlie had gone through a LOT of trouble to get his contract out of Val’s hands, and the thought of putting the idea that he wanted to go back to prostitution again wasn’t something he was keen on tempting. 

But he was getting worse and needed -truly NEEDED- to get laid or go insane. 

He’d felt a modicum of this sensation a long time ago, about maybe forty years back when he first met and started hanging around Cherri. Dodging out of shifts, skiving appointments, getting into more trouble than Valentino was really willing to deal with. 

So Valentino let him have his fun. Told him to not come back until he was ready to behave. 

The freedom was nice...for about two weeks. 

The heat began to boil in his blood and the _need_ for someone to fuck him was almost too much to bear. In his drug-fueled haze, he legitimately thought he was double-dying in some way and instinctively ran back to the Porn Studio to beg his pimp for help.

One good dicking-down later, and Angel was all better. There was little relief, as Angel now remembered what happened after. 

_Valentino’s long fingers grabbed Angel’s face, claws pressing into the skin, almost piercing it through. The overly-saccharine pink saliva that dripped from his teeth was like burnt sugar to Angel’s senses as the moth made sure his sugarbaby was listening._

_“You exist here solely for the purpose of giving someone something to fuck. If I can’t make you remember that, you’ll find out soon enough anyway. You can’t escape me, Angelcake.”_

Back then, it was just a demeaning, demoralizing threat. Now, it was a reminder of Angel’s eternal punishment. 

Goddamn it. God damn EVERYTHING.

Angel bit into the corner of his pillow to muffle his scream of frustration, having already gone through his options in the background of his mind. No one in the Hotel would be willing to help. He couldn’t just sneak out and fuck someone, they’d talk and it would get back to Charlie. He briefly toyed with the idea of asking Cherri as an emergency, but he didn’t want to use his best friend like that.

As much as he wanted to push it off and delay the inevitable, his inability to sleep through this nightmare of bodily torture was giving his one and only option a neon light and increasing desperation to go to it.

And with a shaking hand, Angel pulled his phone out of his pocket and bypassed the number block to dial in the one number he had never forgotten.

There was really no better time to sneak out. The girls were in bed, Husk was out cold drunk, and Alastor was probably still recovering from his pearl-clutching at Angel’s outburst. It was easy to finagle the lock to his window and use his spider attributes to climb down the building and one street over to where a car would be waiting for him.

A part of himself was screaming to just go back. Ignore his Hell-call to punishment. Be contrite and ask Charlie for forgiveness and help.

But another part that was far older, far more cynical, and at this point far too gone to care kicked that other part in the teeth to shut it up and wordlessly got into the car. No small talk, no shared look in the rearview mirror with the driver, nothing. He kept his eyes pinned to the seat in front of him, his jaw clenched, body on fire, and objective well in mind.

This wasn’t like last time, he thought. He wasn’t scared and running back home crying to Daddy. He had a need, and this time Valentino was the tool. 

His heartbeat sped up when the Porn Studio came into view, the tacky neon lights almost like a welcome-home. He shoved that thought out of his head, his nerves taut and patience paper thin, barely letting the car stop before he opened the door and stalked inside.

Familiar sights, smells, and people were but a blur to him as he stomped past reception and to the elevator, where he practically threw some bastard out to empty it before punching in the penthouse office floor code and stood back as the doors closed. The glossy golden sheen of the doors reflected back Angel’s form; a ragged, almost sickly-looking poor bastard of a spider demon who was on his last leg in terms of sanity and possibly physical health.

He almost punched the doors, despising that image. There was so much wrong with it that he hated, ranging anywhere from being the stupid whore coming here when help was back at the Hotel, or being the stupid whore who signed up for this shit to begin with, tained by Valentino’s honeyed words and promises.

Seventy-one years turned honey into rot and promises into nightmares, and the one thing keeping Angel from blowing a gasket was the fact that he was no longer bound to the rotten nightmares.

He was just willingly going BACK to it, like an idiot.

The elevator dinged as it stopped and the doors opened for Angel, showing him to the gaudily comfortable office that belonged to Valentino. Glossy black marble floors, comfy couches that Angel had memories of being on, both fond and foul. Posters of Valentino’s biggest successes lined the walls, and Angel felt venom seep through his veins at the sight of one of his own highlighted by an overhead, as though Valentino purposely did it just for this visit.

The spicy sting of Valentino’s cigarette smoke invaded his senses, the reddened mist coming from the moth’s throne-like chair where the pimp was reclined back in. Waiting.

“Hello, Angelcake.”

Angel felt all six hands clench, baring his teeth in a snarl. “That ain’t my name anymore an’ you know it.” 

Valentino let out a hiss of laughter through his teeth. “Oh baby, the name belongs to me, and I can use it as I see fit.” He gestured at Angel with the end of his cigarette. “Much like you yourse-”

He was cut off when Angel dashed forward and grabbed Valentino by the fluffy collar; Angel’s blood was going from simmering to boiling and it was doing no favors for his temper. “I. DON’T. BELONG. TO YOU,” he spat, the pink in all eight eyes glowing furiously. “I’m here for one fuckin’ thing an’ that’s it!”

The moth didn’t seem to mind the manhandling in the least, his grin widening in near-mockery. “And what makes you think I’ll give it to ya, hm? What makes you think you _deserve_ Daddy’s cock, Angel baby?”

Angel let out a guttural shriek of anger, throwing Valentino hard onto the coffee table, almost breaking the damn thing. “I AIN’T GONNA PLAY THESE FUCKIN’ GAMES!” he screamed, reaching down to grab Valentino by the coat again. “NOT NOW, NOT EVER AGAIN!”

“Right, you just keep tellin’ yourself that, baby,” Valentino purred, saliva dripping from between his teeth in excitement. “You have for...how many years now?”

Angel snarled and drew his fist back to punch Valentino across the face. “SHUT UP!”

“Remember how you used to cling to me, heeling like a bitch every day?” the pimp continued, not caring about the blow or the blood drawn. “How you used to _beg_?” He laughed when Angel punched him again, his tooth catching on Angel’s fist. “Oh, I ain’t gonna lie, baby, you were some of the best ass I’ve ever gotten. Best head too.”

He laughed again as Angel screamed in rage and threw another punch, only for Valentino to catch his wrist and hold it tight, eyes gleaming hungrily behind his askew shades. “Don’t be such a little brat, Angel baby, we had such good times when you weren’t misbehaving.” He shoved Angel back, looming over the spider somewhere between menacingly and dominantly. “When they were good, they were _so good_ , weren’t they?”

“Fuck you!” Angel snapped, spitting at Valentino’s face, only feeling another wave of anger and some modicum of arousal when Valentino simply slithered his tongue out to lick the spittle off.

“You wish.”

Angel’s expression went positively feral as he kicked Valentino’s leg out from under him and twisted his body to shove and pin the moth to the floor, his one advantage of having an extra set of hands being his singular boon as he ripped Valentino’s coat open, his claws almost shredding the leather g-string around Valentino’s hips.

Valentino laughed cruelly, his secondary hands sliding up Angel’s thighs in a faux gesture of intimacy. “Is Daddy’s little baby getting impatient?” he cooed, only to laugh again through another blow to the face. “Angelcake is throwing a tantrum, isn’t he?”

“FUCK YOU, SHUT UP!” Angel spat, grabbing Valentino’s cock and almost having a conniption when he found that the goddamn moth had purposely left himself unaroused. “GET IT UP, YOU FUCKER!”

“That’s not what you say when you’re asking a favor, Angel baby,” Valentino replied, delighting in actually seeing Angel’s pulse through the bloodshot eyes. “If you want Daddy’s cock, you ask NICELY.”

Angel screamed through his clenched teeth, tears welling in his eyes as his last threads of control and sanity began to wither. “I will fucking _rip it off_!” he shouted with a dense tone of seriousness, only the fact that it would be relatively useless should he do it being the only means of it being left attached. 

Valentino laughed, sliding his hands higher to tuck over Angel’s back and pull the spider down lower, slithering his tongue out to lick his teeth. “Ask Daddy _nicely_ ,” he pressed. “You came here for a reason, and if you _want_ that reason, you _ask_.” He lifted a hand to pet at Angel’s head in a mocking gesture of softness. “Just ask.”

Angel felt those threads shrivel and die, the dam breaking on his emotions as he let out a gut-wrenching sob, throwing himself onto Valentino’s chest to cry and hit at him. “Fuck _fuck FUCK_!” he screamed over and over again, emphasizing each word with a weakened punch to the moth’s chest. His body heaved with heat and pain, the last shred of his pride he still had burning with it. “PLEASE, Daddy!”

Valentino’s grin widened a hissing clicking noise resounding in his throat. “Please _what_ , baby?”

Angel let out another cry. “Please fuck me, Daddy!”

In a near-instant, Angel found himself thrown back onto a couch and Valentino between his thighs, one of his legs hooked over the moth’s shoulder as no further time was wasted in giving Angel what he’d begged for.

Angel felt a rush of euphoria and blazing heat fill his body along with Valentino’s cock, screaming out as all six hands grasped around for something to hold onto so he didn’t fall into the oblivion of agonizing pleasure. He could deftly hear someone screaming ‘YES’ ‘MORE’ ‘PLEASE’ ‘DADDY’ but it didn’t register to be his own voice at all; he was simply here for the ride, wasn’t he? 

That’s right, he WAS here for this, wasn’t he? Here to use Valentino, to make the tool actually useful. Valentino’s smug expression as he fucked into Angel didn’t give the spider the impression that he was the one being used though. Which only pissed Angel off more without that goddamn contract being used to make him satisfied with what he had while he was getting it.

He hooked his legs around Valentino’s torso, using the strength of his six arms to haul him up and manhandle the moth onto his back, using his primary hands to pin Valentino’s shoulders, claws pressing in and drawing blood. He couldn’t voice what he wanted to say, for Valentino to stay down, to have ANGEL be the one to fuck him and not the other way around, to stop fucking torturing him with that smug-ass smile and laughter.

His primary hands found their way around Valentino’s neck, squeezing with all the frustration and hate that he could manage as he worked his hips hard to chase that small glimmer of relief just within his reach. He felt a small modicum of satisfaction feeling the straining muscles and choked spasms under his hands, having a glorious mini-fantasy of snapping Valentino’s neck and taking him out for good.

The evil, Point-reducing, almost _arousing_ thought was enough for Angel to _finally_ reach a satisfying orgasm. He was unable to see himself but was pretty confident about how such a perfect porn star orgasm -back arched, expression blissed, fullbody tremors galore- could be attained without an ounce of acting involved, it was that good. But then again, hunger was the best sauce to a starving man.

~~Never mind that it was always good with Valentino, not like that was important.~~

He came down from his high and made a move to get off of Valentino’s dick when the moth grabbed his hips to keep him in place. 

“Where do you think you’re going, Angelcake?” he asked, the tone teasing but his expression anything but. 

“I’m done.”

“The fuck you are. We ain’t done ‘til we’re BOTH done.” 

Angel hissed, punching Valentino in the face. “Then use your fuckin’ hand, you got four of ‘em and a building full of your other whores!” He growled when Valentino grabbed his wrist and pulled him down, their faces barely an inch apart.

“Maybe so, Angelcake,” Valentino purred, his eyes glowing. “But you know more than anyone that you’re my favorite whore.”

“I ain’t your whore.”

“Oh Angel baby…” His hand grabbed Angel’s neck as he effortlessly flipped them over, grinning down at the spider with pink saliva dripping from his teeth.

“You just keep tellin’ yourself that.”

Angel fixed his jacket up, pointedly looking away from the moth draped over a sofa, naked except for fishnets and stiletto boots as he took a long drag of a cigarette. 

“Don’t be a stranger now, Angelcake,” Valentino purred, delighting in the annoyed bristle of Angel’s fur. “...or, since you’re gonna be a client from now on, maybe I should take to calling you _Anthony~_.”

Angel clenched his teeth tightly, grabbing his coat. “Call me whatever you fucking want,” he growled. “I won’t answer to it.” He stalked to the elevator and hit the down button, not looking back as he heard the doors close behind him, drowning out the sound of Valentino’s laughter.

He didn’t look at anyone as he left the building, didn’t acknowledge anything on the ride back to the corner he was picked up from, on his walk to the Hotel, on his climb back up to his window, or the hour-long cold shower. 

Despite the wet sogginess of his fur, he collapsed face-down on his bed, the killer ache and burning now replaced with self-loathing and disappointment. He was satisfied, finally, but at what cost?

He didn’t even know how much time passed when there was a soft knock at his door that indicated Charlie’s presence. He knew he had to look a hot mess with his ruffled fur, but he didn’t give a shit as he opened the door to her waiting. To his mild surprise HER expression looked contrite, which seemed to deepen as she looked his mussed form over.

“Tony, I’m so sorry,” she said earnestly, her hands clasped in front of you. “I’m so focused on getting you better that I keep forgetting just why sinners are here in the first place! Being celibate must be hard enough for you without me and Vaggie being in a relationship and you not working for Valentino anymore...so…” Her red cheek marks darkened in color as she pushed over a thick catalogue that Angel recognized as the one confiscated a good while ago. “...pick anything you want out, on the house. And we’ll even try to set you up with a nice demon so you can take a swing at a healthy relationship, and...Tony? Are you okay?”

Angel couldn’t help it. He just laughed. And laughed. And laughed.


End file.
